


Bank Heist

by Emilybells



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bank Robbery, Comedy, Crime, Gen, Humor, Undercover, hostages
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3465704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emilybells/pseuds/Emilybells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time when the HSBC Bank of London becomes the target of an armed robbery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bank Heist

It was an early Monday afternoon. Being one of those minor holidays that no one especially cared about, John Watson had gotten the day off of work and was busy spending it checking off as many errands as possible from the to-do list Mary had made him nearly a week beforehand. John was currently in line at the HSBC Bank of London, mobile pressed up against his ear.

"Did she really?" the man was saying into the device. "Unbelievable. You don't deserve to be treated like that. Yes, absolutely! You should tell her, you definitely should!" Beat. "Sorry, will I tell her? I don't… I don't know. I don't think that's such a good idea, coming from me."

There was more silence as John listened to his wife at the other end, nodding occasionally despite the fact that she obviously couldn't see. "Yes, okay, fine," John finally spoke up again. "I'll see what I can do."

The man looked up to see the line had moved and he took several steps closer. "I don't know. I'll have to check my calendar when I get back." The line inched forward yet again, and now there was only a single person in front of John waiting to get to the bank counter.

"Look, Mary, I'm almost up. I'll have to call you back, okay? Better yet, I'll just see you when I get home. Okay. Yes. I'll remember to pick that up first, I promise. Yes, I promise! Okay? Okay. Love you."

John made a quick kiss noise into the receiver, which seemed to annoy several people standing nearby, but they didn't outwardly say anything on the subject. By the time John had hung up his call and put the mobile away with one hand he was now at the very front of the line. A bank teller put up their hand, indicating that they were ready for the next guest, and John hurried over to the counter.

"Yes, hello," the doctor said, reaching into his wallet. "I've got a, uh… a check I'd like to deposit." John took out a slip of paper and slid it under the glass panel towards the bank teller, who took it with a fake smile. John smiled back and strummed his fingers over the countertop softly.

The transaction was interrupted, however, when a couple of gunshots rang out into the air. John whipped his head around towards the noise along with everyone else in the immediate vicinity, a few of them letting out gasps and even shrieks. The shots had apparently come from a man who was now standing atop a chair towards the center of the room. He was clad in black from head to toe and had a ski mask pulled over his face, weapon raised into the air threateningly.

"Everyone on their knees!" he bellowed.

Almost the entirety of the room dropped to the ground without hesitation. John swallowed and followed suit but kept his neck craning up to still see the man. Now it had become apparent to John that the guy wasn't alone; four more masked figures remained standing and were positioned throughout the room, each seeming to occupy a distinct portion of it. He was no consulting detective when it came to deducing people, but John assumed they were all somewhat younger than him, with fairly athletic builds and, of course, all very much armed.

"Great," the doctor groaned under his breath.

"Now, here's how this is going to go down," the first man went on. "A couple of my buddies are going to come around with a bag and each and every one of you is going to put your mobile into it. If you don't want to get shot, I suggest you don't give them any trouble." He paused to have a look around the room and lowered his gun only slightly. "Alrighty then! Let's get this party started!"

On his cue the other bank robbers started to circle the room, medium sized garbage bags held out in front of themselves. One by one terrified patrons fished through their purses and pockets and dumped their mobiles into the bags. Realizing that he hadn't much time until they got to him, John stuck a hand inside his coat pocket and without glancing down at the screen tried to get it to redial.

C'mon, c'mon, pick up Mary… he kept thinking to himself, nervously eyeing the bank robber that was getting closer to him with one of the trash bags. The dial tone was soft, but he was crouched close enough to it to hear it stop, which he assumed meant either Mary had picked up or the call didn't get through. Hoping for the former, John began quickly pressing at one of the buttons, punching in a message in morse code.

Unfortunately he'd only gotten as far as saying "CALL POL" when one of the masked men was upon him. Silently praying that Mary would figure out the rest of the message and alert the authorities to the disturbance, John ended his phone call and pulled the mobile out.

John glanced up at the masked man as he dropped his mobile into the bag before him, and… Hang on. Just recognized that man. The entirety of his face was covered by a black ski mask save his eyes and mouth, but still, John swore he knew exactly who it was.

And also that he would kill said man at the first available opportunity.

At first John thought he was going to see how this played out and then find an opportunity, but as it would come to turn out, the man hadn't the patience for that. As soon as the robber that he swore he knew moved down the line to collect the mobile from the elderly woman sitting beside John, John sprung forward, wrapping his arms tightly around the masked man's middle and knocking him to the ground. The robber's gun was knocked out of his hand when this happened and slid a foot or so away.

The other robbers let out a series of yells alerting one another to the incident and hurried over with their weapons pointed towards the struggle. The man that John had tackled flipped him over onto his back. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?!" he hissed behind gritted teeth, pinning the doctor down with the entirety of his weight.

Three of the other robbers were around him now, their guns pointing down in John's direction. The one that John had tackled got up and dusted himself. John remained on the floor but put his hands up defensively.

"Should we… shoot him?" one of the guys asked, looking round at the others.

The one John had tackled shook his head. "Let's not turn this into a homicide if it can be avoided."

Goddamn, it was definitely his voice. That bastard.

He picked up the gun again and pointed it at John along with the others. "Get back to where you were," he instructed sternly.

Fuming now, John leaned forward and crawled back to where he'd been sitting in front of the bank counter.

"I don't like the look of that one," one of the other robbers grunted. "Suppose he tries to play hero again?"

"Then we'll deal with it appropriately if and when he does. Remember why we're here." The other man gave a curt nod at this. "I'll stay here with Ace and finish collecting the mobiles," the first went on. "You three get into the vaults. The clock is ticking."

The others nodded and moved behind the counter, guns out. They demanded to be taken back into the vaults and two bank tellers - one woman on the verge of a breakdown and stout middle-aged man - were selected to do the honors. As they disappeared behind a set of doors into the next room the bank grew quiet. The hostages sat on the floor looking up at the two remaining robbers and each other nervously.

Several minutes passed silently like this. The man who had been standing atop the chair was sitting in it now and kept glancing nervously at a wall clock above the bank's glass doors. Finally he got up and paced over to the other robber to whisper something into his ear. The guy said something back and he returned to his chair.

The other robber then started after them into the back. He stopped at the counter and looked over his shoulder. The other guy didn't seem to be facing him. He grabbed John by his shoulder, promptly shushed him before the doctor had time to say anything and hurried him out of the room and into a hallway lined with presumably empty offices.

The robber pushed open the doors to an office a few doors back and shoved John into before him. Once they were completely alone in the office and the blurred glass door had clicked shut behind them, John turned to face the other man. In a single swift motion he ripped off his ski mask to reveal none other than one Sherlock Holmes.

"I knew it!" John let out, aggressively pointing with his free hand and tightly clenching the mask with his other. "I knew it! I knew it! I - wait. Why. Why, Sherlock?"

"Well isn't it obvious? I'm undercover," Sherlock explained coolly. "Which, by the way, you nearly blew back there, thank you very much."

"No. No, you are not 'undercover', you are robbing a national bank."

His flatmate made a nonchalant shrug. "Technicalities."

"Jesus Christ… So this is for a case, then?"

"Obviously."

"And all the theatrics, going along with this, waving around a gun and wearing this thing." John dangled the mask in front of Sherlock as he said this. "None of it's real. It's all just an act. Right?"

Sherlock looked slightly puzzled by John's question. "Of course it's real. This bank really is being robbed, and I'm involved. But that's not the main reason I'm here, no."

John pinched at the bridge his nose and debated whether he wanted to know the specifics of Sherlock's latest scheme. Ultimately deciding against it, he instead asked "Does the Yard at least know? That you're here, I mean."

Sherlock pursed his lips before responding. "John. Do you honestly take me for the kind of person who would attempt a stunt as reckless as this with the safety of so many innocent lives at stake and not first clear it with New Scotland Yard?"

John lowered his hand slightly at squinted back at Sherlock for some time before he let his arm fall the rest of the way and widened his eyes in disbelief. "Oh my God! Sherlock! You didn't say anything to them, did you!"

"Well of course not! Do you honestly expect Lestrade would be okay with any of this if I had?"

"AND WITH GOOD REASON!"

Sherlock began shushing John frantically as soon as he had raised his voice. John looked about ready to throw a lecture at Sherlock but was prevented from doing so when the detective snatched back his ski mask and pulled it back over his own head. This was just in time, too, because the door was just starting to open again. Sherlock took John by his shoulder and turned the doctor around, slamming him up against the office wall and taking out his gun. When the second robber entered the office, Sherlock turned towards him, looking like he'd just been interrupted from an entirely different scenario.

"What are you doing back here with one of the hostages?" the newcomer grunted.

"He made to have a look under my mask," Sherlock answered. "I was just explaining to him why that wouldn't be a good idea."

"Good call," the robber nodded. "Don't want anything that could assist a sketch artist after all is said and done."

"Say, you didn't speak to Ace yet, did you? He asked me to check what was taking so long."

He frowned. "No. I was on my way back over there when I heard you boys shouting. Something's come up, though." The man nodded towards John. "Put that one back and I'll talk with both of you."

Sherlock nodded. The other man turned to leave, touching his hand against the door handle, when suddenly Sherlock let go of John and sprung up behind him with something he'd pulled out of a jacket packet. It was a folded cloth, obviously doused with some drug or another, and he swung an arm around the robber and pressed the cloth over the man's mouth and nose with his other.

The robber flailed against Sherlock's attack but went limp in a matter of seconds and Sherlock loosened his grip, slowly lowering the unconscious man to the floor.

"What the hell!" John hissed.

Sherlock shoved the cloth back into his pocket and crouched down beside the man to pull of his ski mask. This he handed up to John expectantly. "Well, you're here now. Might as well make yourself useful."

John threw his friend an incredulous look. "Unbelievable," he scoffed, but still grabbed the mask. "What are we doing here, anyway?"

"Glad you asked. I was just getting to that."


End file.
